Scrambled Eggs At Midnight
by KeyLimePie14
Summary: One-shot. Sam's normal late-night snacks at the Shay's house are cut short when she finds there is no food left! Where does she go to satisfy her hunger pangs? Fredward, of course! Implied FreddiexSam. Dedicated to skwirelygurli, because she's awesome! :


**This is dedicated to the awesome skwirelygurli.(: One: This one-shot was inspired by one of our MANY random conversations and Two: Her birthday was this past Thursday, so this is my present to her! Despite how long and pointless it may be.. ;D Oh, and it's only IMPLIED FreddiexSam. (I kept it that way just for you skwirelygurli. ;D) I hope you like it!**

**Enjoy!**

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**"Scrambled Eggs At Midnight"**

**FanFic by: KeyLimePie14**

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Samantha Puckett slipped out of her best friend, Carly Shay's, bed and ambled down the stairs to the kitchen, hungry for a late-night snack. She glanced at the clock; it flashed eleven-thirty. Sam wasn't surprised that her friend was asleep this early. Carly never was a night owl. She looked over to her left, slightly surprised to see Carly's brother, Spencer's light off as well. On nights like these when Sam couldn't sleep Spencer was usually the one that stayed up with her, watching T.V, or making her something to eat. Sam was a bit bummed to see that he was asleep in his own room tonight.

She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open, letting the bright bulb inside illuminate the dark room. She stuck her head deep in and rummaged through all of the food. She grunted in discontent as she realized there was nothing worth eating in their fridge. She shut the door as quietly as possible, and turned to start looking through the cupboards for any kind of snack.

"Dammit." She muttered, shutting the last door leaning against the counter and trying to think of some place she could find something to eat. She searched through her memory bank, racking her brain for any restaurant that would deliver after hours. She came up with nothing.

_If I was food, where would I be? _She thought, trudging over to the couch and plopping down. She stared over at the front door when it hit her. _Freddie._ She really didn't like the thought of trying Freddie's house for food, but she was so hungry she decided to risk entering the threshold of Crazy and her son.

She got up and made her way over to the door, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open. She closed it, making sure the lock didn't catch before turning around to face the apartment across the hall. She took a deep breath and reached up to knock on the wooden door. She leaned against the door frame and awaited an answer.

Just as she was about to knock again the door flew open, revealing a tall, dark-haired boy. His face was contorted in confusion and slight anger.

"Did you know it was me before you even answered the door?" Sam asked, scanning him up and down, taking note of his peeved expression.

"What are you doing here?" Sam scoffed. "And it's called a peephole. Most apartment doors have them."

"Is that how your mother taught you to greet a lady?"

"She taught me how to greet a _lady_, yes. Too bad you're not a lady." He smirked and leaned against the door frame, mimicking the blonde that stood in front of him.

"How long did it take for you to come up with that one, Benson?" She shoved him aside and breezed past him, walking into his apartment. Freddie rolled his eyes and turned to see the girl standing in his living room. He crossed his arms over his chest and shut the door.

"Sam, do you know what time it is?" He scanned her up and down, noticing her attire for the first time. She was wearing a thin green t-shirt, her purple bra showing through slightly. She had on grey short, shorts that were rolled up once or twice with a star design printed on them. To say the least, her outfit was an eye catcher. And Freddie was finding himself strangely attracted to it. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

"Oh, about midnight." She replied, smirking and sauntering over to Freddie's fridge. She began her mission; rummaging through the boy's fridge.

"Then shouldn't you be at Carly's, sleeping?" He walked up behind her and stood over her bent form. He ignored the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes glanced down to read the text printed on the back of her shirt.

"Shouldn't you be asleep too, nub?" She asked, her voice sounding muffled because of how deep her face was buried into the refrigerator.

"I was." He told her, moving aside as she pulled her neck out and straightened up her back.

"Well, I want a snack and Carly's fridge is completely empty." She shut the door to Freddie's fridge and placed her hands on her hips, facing the slightly taller boy with her normal aura of attitude. "So now it's up to you to find me something to eat."

"Why me?" He questioned, leaning against the countertop.

"I just told you."

"Well, I don't know what we have to eat." He told her, turning to sift through his own cupboards.

"Anything decent will do, Fredward." She ambled up behind him, so close that he could feel her breath trickle across his neck. Freddie's hand stopped, and his breath hitched in his throat at her sudden close proximity to him.

"L-like what, _Samantha?_ All Mom has is health junk. Why do you think I'm always at Carly's?"

"You have to have something!"

"Fine. I'll look again. But Sam, you have to be quiet! My mom is asleep!" Sam rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, dork, do you really think I care about your mother's sleeping patterns? Just get me something to eat. Now." She sat down at one of the chairs that was pushed in underneath the table and rested her elbows on the table, smiling smugly as she watched the boy sigh and start shuffling through his fridge in search of food.

Sam began to impatiently drum her fingers on the tabletop in a steady beat, humming quietly along with it. Freddie chuckled and emerged from behind the white door with a carton of eggs in his hand. He smiled at the blonde,

"What song is that from?" He asked her, walking over to place the eggs on the counter before reaching up and grabbing a skillet that was hanging over top of the stove. Sam immediately stopped her humming and drumming and stared incredulously over at the boy.

"I don't know." She replied, sinking her head into her arm, not taking her eyes off of him.

"Do you like scrambled or sunny-side up?" He asked, not turning around to look at her as he flicked the gas on. He set the skillet down over the grate that covered the fire and cut a square of butter off the stick that lay on a butter dish beside the stove.

"Scrambled." She mumbled as her mouth began to water. The boy just nodded and cracked five eggs into a bowl. He opened a drawer and pulled out a dinner fork and began to quickly whisk the eggs until the yolks were broken and the white was completely mixed in. He added a pinch of salt and pepper for good measure and taste before scraping the mixture into the hot and ready skillet. The eggs hit the pan with a sizzle and Sam practically jumped out of her seat in anticipation.

"Be ready in a minute." Freddie told her, using the fork to keep the egg from burning on the bottom. Sam sighed and stared at the clock on the wall, waiting for her meal to be done.

A few minutes later Freddie flicked off the stove and pulled a plate out of the cupboard above his head. He scooped all of the golden eggs onto the plate and got a clean fork out of the drawer before walking over and placing it in front of his vehemently hungry friend. She licked her lips and picked up the fork, shoving a large bite into her mouth.

"Mm." She moaned as she chewed once or twice before letting the food slide down her throat. Freddie rolled his eyes at her and sat down in the chair across from her at the table. He sat and patiently waited and watched as she ate.

"Good?" He asked, amused at how swiftly she ate the food he made her. She didn't reply with words as her mouth was too busy being stuffed to capacity with food. She nodded feverishly, smiling at him. He smiled back and nodded in satisfaction. He figured that was the most thanks he was going to get out of her.

"Oh Mylanta," She stuck her fork into another particularly large piece, "These are amazing, nub. Where'd you learn to cook?" She asked as she stuffed it into her mouth. Freddie was slightly shocked for two reasons, one, Samantha Puckett had just given him a compliment and two, she had graced him with speech during an eating session. That was something Sam just _didn't _do. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.

"Cooking class Mom made me take."

"Waf it a mofver-son cooking claff?" She asked with her mouth full, pieces falling out as she spoke. Freddie rolled his eyes and handed her a paper towel. Sam just looked at it and placed it back on the table.

"No, it was not a mother-son cooking class. I refused to take those with her a long time ago," He informed her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. Sam swallowed loudly and laughed.

"When? Last week?" Freddie averted his eyes.

"No." He mumbled, knowing full well she knew it _had _been last week. After all, he had caused quite a scene at Carly's when his mother had asked him to attend mother-son quilting classes with her. Seriously? How many forms of torture could come in the form of a mother-son class?

"Okay, whatever you say Freddifer." Sam glanced down at her plate and frowned upon seeing it was almost empty. She picked up her fork and scooped up the last few pieces, going slower at it this time. They were just too good and she wanted it to last.

"Want more?" He asked, already standing up and walking back over to the stove. Sam smiled and nodded, loving how he could read her mind like that.

"Duh." She answered, not worried about savoring the bite on her fork now as she shoved it into her mouth. She stood up, carrying her plate over to set it by the stove. She leaned against the counter and watched Freddie make her some more delicious eggs.

Freddie began absentmindedly humming the same tune Sam had sung earlier. Sam looked up at him and laughed. "Catchy, isn't it?" He looked up at her, startled.

"Huh?"

"The song."

"…Oh." He paused and smiled. "Yeah."

"You know… It's the song I was listening to the first time we met." She whispered quietly, looking down at her bare feet.

"What's the name of it?" He asked, not looking at her and stirring the eggs some more.

"'Trouble' by Coldplay. I used to play it all the time."

"Hm, I don't think I've ever heard the song. I'll have to listen to it sometime." He smirked at her.

They stood in silence for a minute more until he deemed the second batch of eggs thoroughly cooked and flicked the gas off. He reached for her plate, his hand gently grazing her side in the process, eliciting a slight blush from her, and scraped the eggs onto the white porcelain.

Sam's nose perked up at the smell of the food and she made sure to grab her fork before walking back to her chair. Freddie rolled his eyes at her actions and placed the plate in front of her. He stood there for a second, just staring at the side of her face before letting out a small sigh and turning to tidy up the kitchen.

"You really should make these eggs for a living, Freddork." She moaned through a mouthful of food. Freddie smirked and threw the wet dishrag into the sink before walking over and resuming his position in the seat across from her.

"Really?" Sam briefly looked up to nod at him before scooping another bite into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"Yeah. Like open a diner or somethin'."

"A diner? You picture me as the type to open a diner?" She stared at him for a moment, her eyes scanning him up and down as if contemplating her answer.

"No, but it would be cool. You could be like that Luke guy on that show Carly always watches. What is it called again?"

"_Gilmore Girls_?"

"Oh yeah!" She half-yelled, pieces of egg flying out of her mouth. Freddie winced; that girl really didn't know any table manners.

"…Yeah. Now just eat and stop spraying me with it." He pretended to wipe his face. Sam rolled her eyes.

"Not funny, Benson." But she complied and finished her meal in silence. She dropped her fork with a soft clank and leaned back. "That hit the spot." Freddie chuckled at her.

"You're welcome." Freddie smiled, expecting that was the most thanks he would be getting from the girl. Sam scoffed and stood up, stretching. Freddie's eyes were once again drawn to her, staring at the small, exposed strip of skin right above the top of her shorts. Sam noticed this and rolled her eyes.

"Benson!" She barked, pulling Freddie out of his stare, "My face is upwards a little more." Freddie blushed and Sam couldn't help but to smile at his embarrassment. After a few moments of tense silence, Sam swiveled and headed for the front door.

"I'll be back for more of those eggs later, Frednub. So expect me." She called over her shoulder. Sam grabbed the door handle and twisted it, pulling it open. "I suggest leaving the lock undone." She flashed him one of her signature smirks and slipped through the door, back to Carly's.

Freddie sat in his kitchen, dumbfounded for a moment before a smile began to spread across his face. He shook his head and laughed. _Only Sam, _he thought. With that, he got up and began to clean up the dishes in anticipation for Sam's next visit.

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**See? Told you it was random and pointless. ;D I hope I got Sam and Freddie in character, as I really, really tried! :D Review? Please? I have cookies! **


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